Breaking Isolation
by tarsido
Summary: Hattori and Conan spend a completely platonic Valentine's Day together, much to Conan's annoyance. Or in which Hattori rides to Conan's rescue completely unwarranted, also to Conan's annoyance.


**Title: **Breaking Isolation

**Rating: **K+, for language

**Genre: **Friendship

**Summary: **Hattori and Conan spend a completely platonic Valentine's Day together, much to Conan's annoyance. Or in which Hattori rides to Conan's rescue completely unwarranted, also to Conan's annoyance.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, as usual.

* * *

The banging was getting louder.

Conan squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the banging pound in his skull in tandem with the pouring rain outside, and scowled. _Just shut up already, I am not in the mood to deal with this today._

In clear defiance to his thoughts, the hammering grew louder. He expelled a sigh so gusty that it stirred the surface of the coffee mug in front of him and stomped to the door, being sure to slam each foot down so loudly that the nuisance outside would hear his thunderous footsteps and derive his irritation from there and _hopefully_ leave. Of course, that was too much to ask for, as the door only swung open to let Hattori – who was apparently leaning against the door – tumble in like a puppet with strings cut.

"How many times have I told you," Conan snapped, disgusted expression firmly in place as he offered a hand to Hattori. It was purely manners though, as he was definitely not strong enough to pull him up, and should he try, it would only end in a very embarrassing situation. Still, he couldn't seem to get rid of the habit, and unlike the girls who laughed and played along, murmuring how cute he was – how he hated that condescending attitude! – Hattori never made a fuss about it and took his hand, gracefully rising to his feet like it is the most ordinary thing ever. "If you lean against the door while knocking; nine times out of ten, this will happen. Of course, you never listen," he scoffed. That ungrateful twit. Why does he even bother, honestly? Conan should just let him fall and crack open his head so that he'd learn his lesson the hard way. That is, if the tile could break the thick skull of his companion.

Conan huffed silently and tossed a towel at Hattori to mop up the sorry bird's nest on his head. He didn't bother telling Hattori that Ran and Mouri weren't in at the moment; the only person Hattori came around the agency to look for was him.

Despite Conan's less than welcoming attitude, the idiot only grinned and dried himself off. Conan eyed him. He had clearly taken the train over right after school, as he was still donning the school uniform, albeit rather scruffily, with the casual shirt – not even a formal shirt! – underneath peeking out at the hem of the school jacket. His school bag wasn't quite zipped, offering a peek into the books haphazardly shoved inside, and his one of his shoe laces were untied.

Conan frowned. It was a wonder Hattori hadn't fallen down the steps and died, really. Or a pity, he amended after a thought. Definitely a pity, because _why_ did Hattori have come over on the day he wasn't ready to received guests? Not that Hattori would have listened if he had objected. And he _had_, very strenuously, by slamming the door on Hattori and steadfastly ignoring him for all of ten minutes.

"You should have just gone home," he grumbled, retreating back into the safety of the house. Hattori followed him in like a dementedly cheerful puppy, conscientiously slipping the door shut and clicking the lock. Conan just turned his back and returned to the nest of blankets he made on the bed – he refused to do that standing-around-awkwardly thing until Hattori managed to decipher the atmosphere and left – neglecting his guest in the display of the worst etiquette ever. Then again, if he wanted hotel-style treatment, he shouldn't have come here. Conan sneered and pulled the blankets up to under his nose, staring at the wall balefully.

Hattori didn't look as if he got the clue yet though. He wandered in, eyes trailing interestedly over the many framed pictures littered over the walls and propped up on the tables in the house – Conan had to work _hard_ to obscure his face in some of them, unfortunately developing a reputation of being terribly _not _photogenic, but it can't be helped; because safety is _first_ – sipping at a mug, then stopped short. "Whoa."

Conan almost looked at him puzzled, before he realised what was so startling. He flushed. He knew what Hattori would see, looking around the room. A fort of blankets and pillows stacked on the bed, some of them stolen from Mouri's bed, leaving it barren and sheets gaping empty while the other practically overflowed with plush cushions. The calendar was dumped on the floor near the opposite wall on sprawling sheets; the room was dim as Conan hadn't been able to summon the energy to leave the bed to switch on the lights. Whatever light that made it through the clouds into the room tinted the room grey, and to complete the depressing picture, rain streaked down the window like cheap make-up, blurring the view outside.

He burrowed into the warmth of his fabric hovel, smothering his face childishly. If Hattori had something to say about what a fucked up mess Conan was, he didn't want to hear it. Perhaps on any other day, he would have shot back with an equally sardonic retort, but that day wasn't today. Wasn't it time he got a break?

"Sure, you can." The low murmur startled him. Had he said something that silly aloud? Conan felt creeping shame bow his spine. Maybe such a long time of pretending to be a child had gotten to his head. A heavy weight sank the bed down, long-suffering springs squeaking slightly, but Hattori didn't do anything else, which was good because given his horrid mood, Conan might be tempted to rip off his hand using his teeth should Hattori try to do anything _forward_ and _demeaning_ like approach him.

"You know, when Ran told me you were sick, I wasn't expecting this," Hattori said, having the nerve to sound _amused_, that bastard. "Lovesickness? Is this because of Valentine's Day?"

"Shut up, just shut up," Conan muttered, gritting his teeth. He closed his eyes. Sparks and starbursts exploded behind his lids.

There was a short silence where Conan tried his best to pretend he was alone, despite the weight of Hattori's eyes on him. He deliriously wondered how Hattori managed to burn his stare through multiple layers of covers.

A shadow fell over his mountain, and he looked up briefly, but was quickly distracted by the sudden weightlessness as Hattori decides to manhandle him. He yelped and fell backwards, but the bedsheet-fort securely wrapped him in its folds. He was finally settled down, much to his relief, which quickly gave way to annoyance. "What- What are you doing?" He spluttered out, pushing aside the cushy blankets. "I told you to leave me alone!" He didn't actually. "I don't want to see you on Valentine's Day," he muttered darkly, just because he can.

"You're never happy to see anyone, Kudou." Hattori didn't look in the least bothered by his sullenness. At least one of us here is happy, Conan thought sulkily. "But it'd be amiss if I just left you when you're like this," he nodded at Conan. Conan frowned at him and Hattori laughed. "I have to be cheerful. If both of us were down in the dumps, it'd be pretty boring, wouldn't it? And it wouldn't do either of us any good for me to catch the depressing disease." He riffled through the cabinets, before surfacing with a disc. "Let's watch a movie!" He brandished the disc at Conan like a particularly exuberant salesperson.

Conan blinked. "Should you be with Toyama now?" He was sure to keep his voice steady and neutral, and didn't acknowledge the jealous twist in his stomach. He stifled any thought that _it was going to be the third valentine he had missed with Ran, and the third promise he broke, a promise to come back-_ He plastered a smirk on his face, feeling his cheeks stretch unnaturally. "She's going to think weird things if you keep doing that." From the all-too-sharp glint in Hattori's eyes, he didn't buy it.

Hattori shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, she'll understand," he said easily. "She was there when Ran told us that you weren't feeling too good, and she didn't object when I said I'd come to see you. She's probably with Ran now, sampling tea cakes. Ran sounded pretty worried about you, so I think she was glad that I said I'd come over and she said that she wanted to as well, but I talked her out of it. Kazuha dragged her out to enjoy some girly restaurant that she likes, so I suppose they're enjoying themselves now. Too bad they won't get a couple's discount, but…"

Conan closed his eyes and let the unceasing chatter wash over him, drowning out the slapping of raindrops against the panes. The throbbing at his temples dulled slightly, and the bitter nausea from his churning insides didn't press quite so hard against the back of his throat. It only figured that Hattori had a foghorn of a voice enough to distract him from everything else, he thought sarcastically, but not disapprovingly.

"Not horror," he cut off whatever Hattori was rambling.

A rattle of disc cases. "How about comedy? Laughter is the best medicine!"

"No."

"Romance for Valentine's Day?"

"Don't be daft. Pass."

"Oh… True enough," Hattori mused. "Valentine's Day isn't all about romance after all."

Conan rolled over in his decimated nest – which had fallen apart because of Hattori's clumsy shift, that jerk – and eyeballed Hattori. "What twisted logic are you spouting now?"

"Well, just because you're my friend doesn't mean I love you any less," he said thoughtfully, not even noticing Conan's incoherent splutters and outraged little _I can't believe you said that! _and other inconsequential protests like _How is this even related to the subject at hand_. "You're like… what's that word? I saw it in one of Kazuha's girl magazines." He pondered about it for a while, then snapped his fingers in epiphany. "Ah, heterosexual life partner. Yeah. That's a really fancy word for best friend, isn't it?"

Conan decided not to think about it too much, or he might explode into many bloody bits in mortification. "Uh… right." He skillfully changed the topic. "No chick flicks."

Hattori readily went along with it. "Definitely not," he agreed. "Documentary?"

"Are you out of your mind? No."

"Sci-Fi?"

"No."

"Supernatural?"

"No."

"Thriller?"

"No."

"I'm starting to think you're just saying no because I'm the one suggesting them."

"… Heh."

A drawn out sigh, that Conan wasn't fooled _one bit_, because even at that steep angle, he could see the tugging of a grin at the corners of Hattori's lips. "Mystery?"

"Doesn't it always come down to this in the end?"

"That's true, isn't it? You'd think we'd be tired of it since it's our job though."

"You should have said that first then."

A few clicks and the rumbling of the traditional movie opening started up. Hattori plodded over to the couch, and instead of squishing the blanket-and-pillow castle that Conan had been rebuilding, he dropped down in front of the couch to sit on the floor. Conan smiled smugly. _Hah. _It was good that he knew better because if he had to reconstruct this one more time, he would flip a truck, he would.

He peered over at where Hattori was sitting, hugging his knees, then grumpily selected a blanket and pushed it off on his head to suffocate him to death. It was really very generous of him! It was freezing, no thanks to the damn rain. Just to make it clear he wasn't becoming _soft_ or anything like that, he told Hattori, "I'm going to tell Toyama that you're a shotacon."

"Kudou!"

* * *

AN: I suddenly remembered it was Valentine and wrote this over dinner = u =;;; And so, this weirdness is born. I think I had a harder time thinking of a title than actually writing it.

Gen Fic! I'm so proud of myself ; u ; [/wibbles] I hope this is okay ahaha. It's kinda... rushed out.. And poorly edited, my bad.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Thank you very much! :D


End file.
